The best gift
by melitta4ever
Summary: Sequel to 'A gift for a man'. After his time with the psycho-witch,Sam is having problems living with his an blames himself for what he did for hn is drowning in self-hate. Rated M for wincest,underage,references for past non-con,torture..
1. Chapter 1

**The Best Gift**

_Sequel to 'A gift for a man'. After his time with the psycho-witch, Sam is having problems living with his family. Dean blames himself for what he did for Sam. John is drowning in self-hate. Rated R for wincest, underage, references for past non-con and torture, and probably more…_

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><p>The bar was dark enough to hide, but loud. It was his luck that there was such a big birthday crowd in such a small town. No one was bothering him right now, but considering the number of times he had heard the 'bottoms up!' cry, soon there would be a fight. That many young men and that much tequila would never make a peaceful combination.<p>

John tried to silence the background noise and buried himself in his thoughts; the bars were his study area after all. However, the problem with him having no solution was not the background noise; John was clueless on what to do, zilch. Considering the time and effort he had spent on searching for his little boy, it was incredibly annoying that he was at complete loss on how to deal with him, now that he had finally found him. Of course he had known that it was not going to be easy, he was not stupid. Damn! he had tried to be patient. He had given Sam his time and space. He had taken a break from hunting the yellow eyed son of a bitch and stayed in one place to spend some time with his boy, to bond with Sammy. He had tried to remind the kid that they were family, but to no avail. Sam was still afraid of John. Afraid was quite an underestimation actually, the kid was terrified. John knew his son's fear was not personal; he knew that the reason behind it was Sam's horrifying experiences with men at his father's age. He knew it, and the knowledge was constantly carving his heart with a blunt knife. He was a horrible father and even a worse husband; betraying Mary's trust, letting the child she had guarded with her life be taken by monsters.

At the beginning, John had blamed Dean. It was much easier on his conscience that it was his older son's deed that made Sam so timid around his family. It made sense. Dean had exploited Sammy, used him and treated him like those fucking bastards and now, the kid was expecting the same treatment from the other members of the family too. Dean's remorse had made it even easier to put all the blame on the boy. Penitence had landed like a visible burden on his young shoulders when he had learned the truth about the sweet ass he had been eagerly pounding. He could not even get angry at his father for hiding the truth about Sam for years. There had been no shock or happiness in those eyes for finding his _dead_ brother; only the angst and the overwhelming shame. He had pleaded forgiveness from Sammy with silent tears again and again, and could not even look at his brother's face after that.

John had told his oldest to keep his distance from Sammy; definitely not to touch him, not to stay alone with him, not to be at the same room with him…. He had hoped that seeing all the precautions John was taking, Sam might trust his father, might believe that John would never allow anything like that ever happen to Sam again. However, it had not worked. He needed to sit in a bar to see the shit strait. Needed to get some time-out from his problems: one traumatized and one self-condemned boys, one loud and persistent conscience. He might not deserve one, but he needed a God damn break. They had been holed up in this small town for almost a month and John missed the burning relaxation offered by his old friend Jack.

God, his Sammy…. the brown eyes too big for his cute face, nervously looking around, always on alert for something bad to happen… His sweet, little boy. Those bastards took that lively, happy kid and turned him into this trapped, fidgety gazelle. Fucking Seville and his fucking customers! He got another large sip from his whiskey. Fuck them all, he would get to them eventually and made them pay for what they had done. But for now, he had arranged his family a nice, comfy cabin outside of the town; a good one hour away from any crowd that might scare his youngest. It calmed Sam a little, but it was damn hard on John. He could not connect his youngest for obvious reasons and Dean… Dean was avoiding him, his face was always down with shame whenever faced his father. John knew he was too harsh on the boy, he knew it was his responsibility to give Dean some break, help him a little. But, every time he had decided to do so, he had seen another small twitch on Sam and anger –although mostly towards himself- was replacing all the other feelings.

The worst part of living an hour away from the civilization was restocking their pantry. At first, John had not even thought about it as a problem, he had taken Sam with him to the grocery shopping. It had been a really bad idea. Sam managed to turn himself into a tiny, little ball in the car during the whole trip. The boy was so tense that John thought he might explode in any second. They had to cut the trip short before Sam shatter his teeth by the sheer force of grinding them. The next time, John had sent Dean to town and stayed at the cabin with Sam. It was not any better. Sam turned himself into that dense, tight ball again and squeezed into the corner of his bed, shaking until Dean arrived.

This time, he had left both his sons in the cabin, warning Dean not to get too close to his brother. Not that the boy had any intentions of doing it, but John had needed to give the order; just like he had needed to make this stop. He was drowning in despair and needed to relax even if for a little while. He asked the barmaid for another one, one last, before he went back to his broken sons. The barmaid was what you could call a big girl. Her curves were round, heavy breasts were pouring from her shirt and she had a very pretty face. John gave her a half smile when she flirtatiously filled his glass. She replied with a generous display of her breasts, a cleavage big enough to bury his face together with his problems. For his defense, John really tried to stop himself staring at them like a freaking teenage boy. Damn! She was gorgeous, and it had been a while; but his plan was going back to his boys after his third whiskey. However, when he finished it, the girl gave her another warm smile, filled his glass again '_on the house'_ and told him that she was going to be free in an hour. Her hands were soft, her smile was sincere and she had those full lips that John was sure going to feel like heaven around his cock. The image of the girl blowing him while John's hands squeezing those fleshy, beautiful breasts did it for him. He stayed; drank few beers, played a little pool, and gave the girl one hell of a kiss when they left the bar for her place. Her lips were softer than John had hoped. She was soft overall, pliant and wanton.

The girl, Leslie was her name, was good, she was freaking awesome. It had been a while John had such a sweet company. She was a little bit young for his age, but way too willing; God, was she willing. John gave it her good, pounded her to the soft mattress, her long blonde hair swirling around his fingers. She kept praying and swearing, and he drank her whimpers, her moans. Her hands were pulling his head into her neck and John was sure he was giving her a very bad case of stubble burn. Hey, she was asking for it.

John wanted to get his breath together and leave after that amazing fuck, but before he could attempt to get up, she went down on him. Those fucking cock-sucker lips! John could not refuse another run. When everything was over, they were both tired. Leslie slept on his chest, softly sucking his fingers while John was waiting her to sleep deep enough so that he could leave without waking her.

When he opened his eyes, it was 2am! He had spent more than 12 hours away from his boys, without letting them know or checking them. He left the sleeping girl and drove like a maniac to reach the cabin.

XXX

No more Billy, he was Sam. That's what John said. John said that he was his father too. The first time he had said those words, Sam had tried to play along as he had learnt so well. He had knelt before John and placed his head to the guy's knees. John was OK at the beginning with the gesture until he heard Sam asking his daddy to punish him. Not so OK after that. For a while, Sam thought he was just not getting the game he was supposed to play and he tried different scenarios he could think of, offered different pleasures. They all ended with John stopping him with a really sad voice, '_No, Sammy, please. You don't have to this ever again. You hear me, son. Never…_' And after each time, John was scolding Dean, probably thinking Sam could not hear them, '_You see what you did? You see your BROTHER's reaction to his family… _' At the beginning, Sam had thought John was angry at Dean because the young hunter had pampered Sam; but after a week he finally had gotten that it was not the case.

He really did get that John was not asking for sex. The guy was not scolding Dean for pampering Sam, but because Dean had fucked his brother. Sam understood that John was not going to ask _it_ from him and he should be happy with that. He was eating well, nobody was torturing him, and John had promised him that Seville was never going to find him. Sam should have been happy and relaxed, but he did not. Everything he knew on how to survive was taken from him. He did not know what to do. He had no idea how to behave around these people. What were the right things to do? What were the things that deserve the punishment? And what would be the fucking punishment, when he was surely going to get? Sam could not spend another day not knowing it, whatever it was it could not be worse than not knowing.

Even though John had done nothing to him, Sam was afraid of the guy. He could not forget the eyes staring at him from those holes while he had been making love to Dean. Something with those eyes made his bones shiver. Whenever John looked at him, Sam thought he was going to see it again, the cold, yellow tint in those brown eyes. He was going to see it and his life was going to turn into hell again. He knew it did not make any sense, but fear seldom did.

Sam tried to control his fear, at least not to show it to John because he missed Dean. He hoped that if he behaved not-skittish around the guy, John would not keep Dean at bay any more. He really wanted to be close to Dean again, to feel safe and secure. Although the hunter was much bigger and definitely a lot stronger than Dean, Sam felt safer with him; with his brother, that's what John had told him. He had said Dean was his older brother and it was wrong –oh, so bad, dirty, wrong- that Dean had _slept _with him. John had told him that it was never, ever going to happen again, and he expected Sam to be happy for that. Growing up in a house full of whores without a family, the '_brotherhood'_ did not make any affect on Sam. He loved some of the boys he had been living with. Seville had called them brothers too and they had always touched each other the '_bad_' way, as John put it. So, no; the brother thing did not have that effect on Sam.

Seeing how angry John was at Dean for what they had done, Sam could only imagine how furious the hunter would be if he ever learned how Sam was feeling for his _brother_. He could not stop those feelings though. He did miss Dean. He missed his smile, his bright eyes, the delicious smell, the perfect taste… he missed the warmness, softness and peace in those strong arms… the soothing sound of the heartbeat, the hands between his hair, the touch of those plush lips on his forehead…

Dean did not touch him anymore, he did not even look at him and he was always sad. So sad… Whenever Sam caught those green eyes, there was so much pain in them that Sam felt he could drown in it. He wanted to reach out and clean that pain from those brilliant eyes... but, he could not; he did not want John to get angry and punish him. He did not want to see the man's eyes turn into those scary yellow again. He knew, he knew that there was no such thing as yellow eyes, but… God! He was so scared.

Over the time, Sam had found out that he could remember Dean. Small memory patches, hard to differentiate from his dreams, but still he did remember, kept remembering more and more. One picture from here, another from there: The green, loving eyes looking at him, a chubby and bossy kid feeding him, playing with him, hugging him. He remembered those adorable lips giving him raspberries, tickling his jowl. He remembered waking up to Dean's arms, snuggling with him to sleep, asking him to kiss it better. Strangely, he could not remember John at all. However hard he tried, his first memory of the guy was still him talking to Seville, giving Sam that icy smirk.

John was away now. Dean was in the other room; he never got close to Sam when John was away. Sam spent most of the day lying down on his bed and reading the books Dean had gotten for him. Sam knew it was Dean who bought them, although John had given them to Sam. When John had gone to the town, he had brought food and drinks. The books, though, had showed up when Dean had gone shopping. That day had been a really bad one for Sam, when Dean was away. Generally, even if he could not see Dean, he always knew that the young hunter was somewhere in or around the cabin. For some stupid reason Sam felt that if John tried to hurt him, Dean would have stopped the guy. But, when Dean left for the town, there was no one; he was all alone with John for hours. The guy did not hurt him that day, but Sam could breathe only after Dean got back. He had been so tensed that he could not even manage to thank Dean for those precious gifts.

It was really late; Sam could hear the soft breathing noise coming from the next door. Dean was sleeping. If Sam knew for sure that John would not show up at the worst possible point, he would long have crawled into Dean's bed and seek some comfort between his arms. But, he did not want to get caught by the man. He did not want to sleep alone either, because he knew how scared he would be when John entered into the room while he was sleeping. He was sleepy tough, and damn, he had to go to the bathroom; but it was dark. The freaking lamp had burnt out in the middle of the night; Sam had no idea how to fix it. Of course, he could walk five steps to the bathroom, five freaking steps and have the light. He could relieve himself, keep the light on and could read more until John arrived… He had forced himself more than once to do so. Maybe ten times he tried to drop his feet to the ground, but immediately collected them back under his legs before they could touch the floor. Many nights on dark playgrounds or with freaking blindfolds had that effect; dark did not bode well with Sam. It was not like that he had not suffered under bright lights. He had, maybe more so. But, the thing with the dark… the unknown, the waiting, knowing that the other person could see you… No, no… He could wait. John would arrive soon anyways, he would turn on the lights and Sam would go to the bathroom.

He did not realize that he had fallen asleep while waiting, but he knew he was dreaming, a nightmare actually, again. He was with one of the tricks, the old guy with the chocolate cigars. His head heavy with the smell of burned flesh, the pain in his groin was pushing him toward unconsciousness. '_Please, sir; not again… I'll do it, sir; just gimme a minute, I'll cum… Please...' _And suddenly, there he was, John with yellow eyes. He was not doing anything, only watching, but Sam felt like his gaze was drilling holes into his brain, coloring his small body with that sickish yellow. The absolute terror; the paralyzing, suffocating fear. He knew it was a nightmare; he tried to wake up, '_wake up, wake up, wake up…_'

"Sammy wake up!" John tried one more time, touching softly the shivering kid's shoulder. Sam was obviously having a nightmare, shaking, whimpering, and crying very quietly in his sleep.

When John tried the third time, a little bit louder, Sam finally opened his horror filled eyes. He was awake, but now he was shaking more, crying harder and his pink lips were drawn to a white line whimpering barely audible 'P_lease_'s.

"Sammy, it's OK. It was only a nightmare."

But it was obviously not OK. Sam scrawled back in the bed as if his father's hand scolded him. John could only hear a soft '_No_' before realizing the wetness slowly growing under his youngest son.

"Sam. Sammy. It's OK, son. No big deal." John tried to comfort him. "Let's get you to the bathroom, OK?" He reached for Sam's hand to help him up.

"No… No! Noo! NOO! DEE! DEEEEEE!"

Dean was in the room in that second. John had no idea how the boy drew the shut-gun in such a short time, but he was facing right at the barrel now.

"Dad?"

"It's OK Dean. Sam had an accident." He turned back to Sam again. "It's OK Sammy, it's OK. Things happen."

But Sam crawled back even more. His wet eyes were as big as saucers and jumping between his father and brother.

"Dad." Dean got closer to his father, leaving the shut-gun at the side of the bed. "Let me handle this, sir." He, then, whispered into his father's ears. "I think it's the smell… scaring him."

It hit John like a fist in his guts. What the fuck was he thinking? Coming into his traumatized son's room at this God forsaken hour? Reeking alcohol and sex? Waking him from a fucking nightmare? Fuck! He was the stupidest prick ever! Sam probably –yeah, right _probably_, who are you kidding Winchester, fucking DEFINITELY- had had so many bad experiences with men smelling just like John: Whisky breath and dried spunk. Fuck! Fuck!

"I'll…. I'll be… next door. Call me if need anything." He went to the other room, leaving his shaking son with his older brother. The brother that John had been sure Sam was afraid of too. Apparently it was not the case. The kid had called for him like he had always done so, many years ago. Sam asked his brother's help. Even if the reason behind Sam's request for help was breaking his heart, John was actually happy that Sam at least trusted someone in the family. At least, Sam had his big brother.

_TBC…_


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on Sammy… let's clean you up a little." Dean tried to soften his voice as much as he could, eyes glued to his brother, searching for a clue.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" Sam's voice was so small that could barely reach beyond his trembling body.

"Shhh… It's no big deal." Dean tried to convince his brother. "It's not the first time we have to change the mattress. I don't even remember how many mattresses dad and I bled over after a hunt. We had to burn them." He continued with a small laugh. "Oh, and once, I dropped the whole pot of tomato soup onto my bed. It looked so gross! So, believe me; it's nothing new kiddo. Let's get going. Huh?"

Sam grasped his brother's hand to get up. He just stood there with his sagging sweats, not knowing what to do next, not leaving the hand he clutched tight. After his initial fear of "I'm getting the punishment" was –well, not exactly over, but- at an acceptable level, the only thing he could feel was the overwhelming shame. He had wetted the bed like a baby. God! What was wrong with him?

Dean guided Sam towards the bathroom, helped him to turn on the shower. When he was leaving, Sam stopped him with nothing more than a whimper; almost too quiet to hear, but heartbreakingly sharp whimper. As if he was hurting.

"Sammy?" Dean's eyes reached for his brother's, finding nothing but fear. He had no idea how to help Sam.

"Where… where are you going?" Sam managed to push the words out of his quivering lips. '_Please don't leave.' _was a silent scream behind his question.

"I'll change the bed, open up window-"

Dean cut himself fast seeing Sam's fearful eyes nervously running towards the open door, the one John had left moments ago. The kid was looking too lost, too scared, too desperate. Dean could almost hear the pleading raising from the hazel eyes which were still wet with tears.

"I'll leave the bathroom door open, OK? I'll be in the room; you can see me all the time, OK?"

Sam nodded silently. It was definitely not enough to remove his fear, but still it was better than nothing.

Before Dean could divert his attention to the wet bed, Sam started undressing right in the middle of the bathroom. He did not get behind the curtain or try to cover himself. Dean turned his head as soon as he could, but was not fast enough to miss the image: his kid brother, completely naked and trembling with fear. All his instincts were shouting at him: run to Sammy, hug him, erase the fear and worry from those beautiful eyes. Make him laugh, make him happy, make him forget all those bad things had happened to him. But, he could not. After what he had done to his brother, it would not be the best idea to get close to his naked body. Not right now, not ever.

After hearing that Sam was under the water, he raised his eyes from the floor and allowed himself to move, to open the windows. The cold seeped inside the room right away together with the fresh mountain air. He decided to throw the mattress out of the window together with the soiled sheets. He would deal with them tomorrow when Sam was not scared out of his wits. It was not easy to push the twin size mattress through the window, especially if you did not want to bump into the wetness face first; but he managed at the end. When he was finally done, he realized Sam was out of the shower and standing in the middle of the room, again all naked, shivering.

"Sam?"

"My towel is in the drawer." Sam answered, completely comfortable in his lack of clothing, pointing the large dresser right under the window.

Dean immediately covered his brother with a large towel he got from the drawer.

"Dude, how long you waited here, all wet? It's freezing, the window was all open."

"It's OK Dean." Dean could not look at them but he felt the hazel eyes all over himself. "Thank you."

"No biggies, kiddo. Get yourself some thick PJs. I don't want you to get cold." Dean replied, closing the windows tight.

Sam looked a little bit calmer now, more of a sleepy 13 years old than a freaked out kid. His hair was still damp but Dean decided against pushing him for more work and helped him to get under the comforter; tucked him in as he had done countless times many years ago. But before he could leave his side, Sam's hand clutched on his arm, tight. He whispered softly,

"Please don't go."

Dean could not answer. He knew he could not sleep next to his brother. Dad would kill him, rightly so. But, he could not deny Sam the relief the kid needed desperately. After weighing his options, he finally nodded. He sat down on the comforter instead of getting inside, but stayed close to Sam. He was not that sleepy anyways, he could sit next to Sam until the boy could fall asleep.

Sam, finally, God! finally, felt relaxed. Not completely, but that nagging fear was dimmed, now that he could feel Dean's warmness next to him. He did not let go young hunter's arm though; he held it close to his heart, hugged it tight. Dean was with him. He came when Sam called him. He came and rescued Sam from John. He came and stayed with him.

Sam was not stupid; he knew there was nothing that John had been doing or planning to do to hurt Sam; but he had been so scared. The dreams, the smell, absolute enormity of John standing next to his bed… He did not want to think about it anymore; instead he hugged Dean's arm even tighter and inhaled the warm smell in. Dean was with him, and that was all that mattered.

XXX

John woke up with that familiar beat down hang-over. The weight in his heart was heavier than usual though. He had scared Sammy last night. And it was not one of those small flinches, quiet gasps either. The kid had been so scared of his father that he had called his brother for help. What the fuck had Sam thought that John would do? What had John ever done to him? '_You mean other than being a crappy father and even crappier hunter, Winchester?'_ the stupid voice in his head asked.

After the shower, he looked around the cabin; Dean was nowhere to be found. He must have slept in Sam's room. John was not sure how to feel about it. He knew the dynamics between the brothers were very delicate right now, but it felt right that Dean was with Sammy. The kid needed someone and obviously John was not the comfort he was looking for. '_Quite the opposite.'_

He opened the bedroom door silently to check on his boys. They were both sleeping. Together. John had that uneasy feeling seeing that they were actually sharing a bed. Although Dean was on top of the comforter, they managed to entangle with each other somehow. Dean's right arm was going under Sam's shoulder so that his hand was resting on the boy's chest. Sam was sleeping on his side; facing his brother, his face buried in Dean's neck. John knew it was not right. Even if they had not shared that shameful experience, it was not right; they were grown too old to sleep together like this. But John, unfortunately, remembered too well the panic Sammy had been through last night. He could understand Sam's need for physical contact. John himself had offered the comfort of a soothing hug to countless civilians after hunts. He knew very well that, there was nothing better than a heart beating next to yours to convince you that you were still alive. He knew, but it did nothing to remove that uneasiness.

Dean must have been cold, John thought after watching his sons sleep for a while. The boy was sleeping without a cover. He brought the blanket from his bed to cover his eldest, but before he completed the action he was face to face with the barrel of his son's Colt.

"Is this a new trend, welcoming your father with a gun?" John whispered, managing a half smile.

"Sorry… Sorry dad." Dean's eyes dropped with his gun. He slowly pulled his arm under his brother. Sam wiggled in his sleep, obviously unhappy to leave his safety cord, but did not wake up.

"How did he sleep?" John asked, watching the 13 year old making himself comfortable in his new position.

"Alright, I guess. Couple of times he had nightmare but he calmed down when I held him."

"Good."

"I'm sorry, dad." Dean raised his eyes to his father's. "I was not planning to-"

"Come to the kitchen." John cut him. "Don't wanna wake Sammy up", and left the room.

XXX

Dean sat down at the kitchen table, his hair still wet from the quick shower he got, watching his father preparing breakfast. When John did not say anything to acknowledge his son's presence, Dean finally started the conversation.

"I wasn't gonna stay there, dad… but Sammy… he asked me and…"

"It's OK, Dean."John finally turned towards his son. "Sam… Sam needs someone to trust. And, he apparently trusts his big brother. It's good." He inhaled deeply and continued with a grim voice. "But, Dean…" Fuck, it was so hard to say these words. "He **is** your baby brother."

"Dad, I know."

"Listen to me." John's voice was in the full order mode again. "He is your brother and he had been through too much. He might get confused. It's not his fault."

"Dad…" Dean whispered. He so did not want to listen to this talk right now.

"I know it's hard to listen or even to understand… but Dean, you need to; you need to be ready. Sam's life… his body all he had, son. He doesn't know how to connect with other people except-"

"Dad, please!" Dean answered hurriedly, did not want to hear anymore.

"Just wanna make sure, son. I don't want you to be in a situation that you feel obligated to help him in a wrong way. And it is **the wrong way**, Dean."

"You think I don't know. You think, I'm OK with…" He could not continue for a minute, his eyes searched for an easy answer on the ceiling, but returned back to floor without any help. "I just want to forget everything… I'm so sorry, dad. I'm so sorry."

"Dean." John waited for his son's eyes to reach his. He wanted to say that Dean saved his brother's life, hell, John's life too; but could not. He could not forget or forgive… '_What John? What is it that you cannot forgive: Dean fucking his brother or Dean fucking his brother and Sam still trusting him instead of you?'_ "Let's put the past behind us. Go get Sammy for breakfast."

XXX

Sam opened his eyes to the soft voice of his brother.

"Hey, sleepy head."

Dean was smiling. It was a new and wonderful view for Sam: lightly freckled face so close, green eyes looking at him with so much love; just wondeful.

"Morning, Dean." Sam smiled back at him. He wanted to show his gratitude for the night, he wanted to show how happy Dean made him, how happy he was to wake up to such a view.

"Morning… The breakfast ready." Dean helped him up and whispered in a comical way, "Dad tried to cook this morning, I sooo wished we had a dog to feed."

Before his sentence was over, Sam's thousand watt smile was gone.

"Sam? I'm joking. Dad isn't the greatest in the kitchen, but he sure can manage scrambling the eggs."

Sam so did not want to go to the kitchen. He did not want John anywhere near them. He actually did not want anyone else around them. He just wanted Dean.

"Hey." Dean lifted Sam's chin up to see his eyes. "What is it, Sammy?"

"Nothing… You… You will be with me, right?"

"Sure, kiddo. I won't let you finish everything."

They entered the kitchen together, Sam's hand clutched to his brother's.

"Morning boys." John welcomed them. There was only a whisper from Sam but Dean compensated it with a loud greeting for both of them.

Why his son was so afraid of him, John could not get it. And why was he so relaxed with Dean? The kid did not let his brother's hand go for the longest time, kept it under the table as if John could not see it. When Dean really needed his hand to use the fork, he grabbed Dean's leg instead. John tried to comfort himself, reminding that they were just kids. Oh, who he was kidding? You don't hold your brother's leg! You hold your lover's leg and only when you want to seduce them. Was this what Sam was trying to do? Seducing his brother? '_Don't be ridiculous Winchester!'_

John's grim thoughts were cut by the whispers coming from the other side of the table. He looked at them without tilting his head. Dean was trying to encourage Sam to eat more, like he had used to do before the evil witch. There it was; John's answer. What did John expect that Sam would remember about his father? He had never been there for Sammy. John could hardly remember their times together, how could he expect the kid to do so. What memory could make Sam trust him? It was Dean who read Sam the bedtime stories, it was Dean who made sure Sam eat proper, it was Dean who held his hand when Sammy was sick… It was Dean, always.

"Dean."

"Yes sir!"

Dean's answer was sharp and full with hope. It was obvious how happy Dean was that his father was talking to him. '_You are a dick, Winchester_.' God! John hated himself sometimes.

"Let's get some training today. Prepare Sammy too."

"Sir?"

What was Dean expecting; that John would throw the kid into the water in the first day? Awesome, apparently both his sons believed that John was a monster.

"We'll take it slow, but gotta start somewhere. And Dean."

"Sir?"

"You know better than questioning an order."

"Yes, sir."

XXX

'Training" John said. Training for what? Was it because of the night? It had to be. '_What did you expect? If you wet yourself like a stray dog, they'll teach you not to do so like one.'_

"Are you ready, Sammy?"

Dean was smiling. '_No, Dean. Please no.'_ Sam was OK with learning his lessons, but did not want to be taught by Dean. Not by Dean, please God!

"Hey, Sam? Don't worry. Dad said we'll take it slow. Probably run for a couple of miles, maybe less. Nothing to worry about." But, Sam obviously worried, so Dean offered his best line. "I'll be with you all the time."

"You train me?" Sam could not help his voice shaking.

"We'll train together. Maybe later, I teach you how to shoot too. You wanna?"

Sam's eyes widen impossibly large. "Shoot a gun?"

"Yeah. What do you say?"

"You want me to learn how to shoot?" Dean did not deny it, so it had to be the case. "Yes, Dean. I'd love to."

He was going to hold a gun like Dean. Dean was going to teach him how to shoot. Maybe Sam could look strong and confident like him too. Nah, no one could look like Dean. Dean was just perfect.

XXX

Sam was so much better now that he was spending time with his brother. Eating better, sleeping better… The kid started to laugh for God's sake; John had almost lost his hope to hear that again. After the night of the incident, John let them sleep in the same room. He was expecting them to use their own beds, but every morning he found Sam sleeping in his brother's. The kid did not sleep alone, and John could not ask them to separate. He did not want his son to hate him even more, if it was even possible.

Sam was still silent and withdrawn when John was around. He stayed next to his brother as if they were tied with a short, invisible chain. But when John was hidden from their sight, Sam became a totally different kid. He talked to Dean -John had no idea about what-with enthusiasm, playing with him, laughing with him. John even witnessed them to wrestle few times. He wanted to interfere, afraid that the body contact might trigger something in Sam. He wanted to make sure Dean did not hold him too tight, did not corner him… Yeah, John was obviously stupid. Of course Dean knew better, Dean always knew better when it came to Sam.

They were way too close for brothers at that age, but John did not want to dwell in that thought too much. They had been close before; before that freaking he-witch had stolen his baby boy from them. So, it was something John could turn a blind eye. What John could not oversee was the pure worship in Sam's eyes when he looked at Dean, like Dean was the Jesus Christ walking on the water. The two hazel orbs were always on Dean, always sparkling with love and awe. Every time Dean made a joke or congratulate Sam or ruffle his hair, John could see –even from afar- his youngest's face lighting up with the brightest smile, beaming at his brother.

Dean was not completely innocent in this either. He was always too close to his brother. Almost always touching, hand on the head, shoulders bumping or knees touching… always too close. John tried to interfere with that. Whenever he caught Dean alone, he had told him about cutting the physical touch. After each annoying conversation, Dean had tried to obey the orders; but Sam had always compensated, more eager than ever to get close to his brother, to touch him. So, John let that one slip too.

XXX

Dean woke up buried under his younger brother. Sam always made it next to him during the night and Dean kind of got used to waking up hugged tight between the long limbs of his skinny brother. However, the hard on he was waking up with was really giving him the jeebies. Mornings had used to be the best time of the day for him. If there was no hunt or training, Dean loved spending a little bit more time in the bed after waking up; imagining the hot girls from the movies or bars and playing softly with his dick until the desire became unbearable, forcing him to the bathroom to empty his balls. Now… not so much.

He tried to crawl under Sam without waking him up; it would not be nice if Sam caught him in this situation. They have been in this God forsaken cabin for almost two months and Dean got zero chance on hitting anything other than his right hand. And every night, his dreams getting more and more involved with his dick and-. God! He really needed to get laid. He tried to calm himself. The reason behind his disturbing dreams could easily be that he had not seen anyone other than his dad and brother for a month. So, it was only normal that his dreams were invaded by Sam. Also, his last action on this matter was with Sam. So, yeah, it made perfect sense that his brain was just filling the blanks with the latest memory; filling with all different versions of Sam. The one he was shaking through his orgasm. The one he was giving Dean the head. The one he was kissing like heaven. The one- '_Stop it!'_

He really needed to reach to the bathroom before he came into his boxers. And Sam's proximity was not helping him either. The kid's right arm was on Dean's abdomen, really close to his nether region. Dean's prick was hard and throbbing, as if trying to reach that warm hand residing couple of inches higher. As if, it could just peak through the confinements of the clothing and have that blissful contact. It was aching with the desire.

It did not matter what Dean was saying to his father or to himself in that matter. During the day, it was easy to forget what they had done with Sammy. It was easy to deceive himself when the sun was up and John was around, when Dean could do all the things he had missed to do as a brother. But during the night, when Sammy snuggled next to him, hugging him with his warm arms, pushing his face into the crook of Dean's neck, exhaling right onto that point which made Dean shudder all over… That was when all the thoughts and desires Dean was trying so hard to forget came to him so fast and hard that it made him drunk.

It took everything in him to resist the desire. Knowing that Sam would easily –oh, so easily- do anything Dean asked from him made it even harder to withstand. Dean knew that he did not even have to ask aloud. He easily could nudge Sammy towards it with a small touch or maybe even with a look. Dean knew Sam would be all over him; eager to please. Sam would do anything for his brother, so that Dean would keep him safe, so that Dean would let him stay close. And Dean was a big ass bastard because -God help him- he enjoyed this. It gave him a sick pleasure that he had such power over Sam, that Sam was his and his only. Dean Winchester was a sick bastard, alright.

With the incredible power of self-hatred, Dean managed to push the burning desire back to the depths of his heart. He inhaled the sweet smell of Sammy, placing a chaste kiss on top of his shaggy hair and managed to remove himself from the tight cocoon of his brother. Everything would be alright after he relieved himself. It was only the teenage hormones driving him nuts. Nothing else. And when finally Dean got hold of a girl, any girl, he would forget all those crazy memories of Sam and start dreaming soft curves and large breast like he had used to do.

When he finally got into the shower, his hands were on his cock before he could turn on the water. His touch was not as soft or as enticing as the hands he remembered, but it would do just fine. During these moments, he had long given up on trying to force his thoughts away from his latest, amazing experience. It had never worked; Sam was all he could think of however hard he had tried. So, he indulged himself, let his mind go crazy, imagining Sam's expert mouth on his dick, that it was the smooth tongue sliding under his prick instead of his own clumsy fingers. He placed his left arm on the cold tiles and started sucking on it, as he had done years ago with his pillow, practicing his kiss. He knew it was a super lame thing to do, but the act itself looked negligible under the shadow of the person he was imagining doing it with. He could not forget the taste of Sammy, and not only his heavenly mouth either. Dean was crazy for tasting that delicious cock again, to feel its smoothness over his tongue, to feel it twitching with pleasure, to taste that pre-cum. No, it did not make his stomach squirm at all, he was craving for that taste, that smell. He had tasted only once and got fucking addicted.

He was addicted to the feeling, the taste, the smell of Sammy, even that musky smell rising while Dean was pushing himself into his brother's ass. Dean would have never thought that he could enjoy the smell of another person's –let alone another man's- ass. But here he was, jerking off under the warm water, sucking his own flesh, imagining it was his brother's tiny little pucker. Oh, how he wished he could kiss that pink heaven, that he could push his tongue in that silky heat, that he could drink Sam's most private flavor. He was sure Sam would go crazy under such treatment, would make those alluring sounds, would push himself into Dean's mouth. And Dean would keep doing it forever. Fuck! He knew he was a total sicko, but right now, the orgasm building in his stomach left no room for other emotions. The pleasure was so strong he had to bite his arm to silence himself. His balls forced their whole load -which must have accumulated in an incredible pace during the night because he came like whoa!- leaving Dean with shaky legs.

When the tremors of his orgasm faded, Dean realized he had an angry bite mark on his forearm. He had to be careful with his sleeves today or he might need to do some awkward explaining to the ever observant Sammy. His Sammy. His baby brother, who trusted Dean like a saint trusted God. And Dean was daydreaming about forcing himself onto him. The shame and guilt was getting their accustomed spot on his heart, now that its beating dropped down to normal. He had to get out, he had to find a girl, he had to forget this. Soon, soon John would start hunting again and Dean would beg him to let them stay somewhere that he could find someone to extinguish this desire. Soon…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

John watched his sons playing with each other. Apparently Dean had made Sam angry enough that the boy had left his homework open on the desk and was trying to bust his brother. Dean was not even trying hard; laughing and teasing his brother, making Sam crazy… It was the sweetest scene John could walk into; they looked just like regular teenage boys. However, even this charming show did not lift the mood John had fallen in after the talk with the high school counselor.

"Dean, can I talk to you a minute? In the kitchen."

"How did it go at the school?" Dean entered the kitchen right after him; still out of breath more due to the laughing than the wrestling.

"Did you know about the incident at the school?"

"Sir?"

"Sam… Did you know the kids bullied him?"

"Yes, sir." Dean's eyes dropped down to the floor immediately.

"And, it did not occur to you to mention it to me? God! Dean. How could you keep this from me?"

"It's not like that. It wasn't a big deal. And Sam… he didn't want you to- Wait a minute, did they blame Sam? That's why they called you?"

"No, and it's not the question."

"Why do they even mention it?"

"Because his teacher thinks the way Sam behaved after the bullying was not normal."

"Oh." Dean's eyes dropped to his shoes again. He remembered the incident clearly. Apparently, bunch of kids had thought it would be hilarious to welcome the new, shy kid to the school. When Dean had arrived there to pick his brother up, Sam had already been on the floor, trembling. A few teachers were there to break the kids, somebody had suspected that Sam had epilepsy and called for them. Before Dean could reach his brother, one of the teachers tried to help Sam up. As Dean had expected, the guy only scared Sam more, a lot more. The boy just pulled himself into a tighter ball and kept shaking; his panic was evident in his every breath. He had not gotten up until Dean had assured him everything was alright.

"I thought he was better now." John asked.

"He **is** better. It was only one incident. Couple of jerks bullied him, he got scared… but they won't do it again. I made sure of it."

John did not want to learn what his son actually did to the kids. He had more important things to deal with.

"Are you sure he is better?"

"Yes, dad. He's great at his classes, talks to the teachers… you can't tell he's any different than other, you know, nerdy kids."

"So, he is only like this with the bullies… and me." John could not keep the resentment out of his voice.

"I… I didn't mean…"

"I'm not blaming anyone here, Dean. But, I… I gotta know."

"He seems to feel more anxious with you, but-"

"Anyone else?" Seeing Dean's questioning eyes staring at him, John continued. "I can't really tell; he is always the same when I'm around? So, I gotta ask you."

Dean could not answer, knowing how much it would hurt his dad; he kept his eyes on the floor. John did not need the loud confirmation though, Dean's expression spoke volumes.

"Do you think it is because of my age?"

"Don't think so." Dean whispered after a while. For some reason, Sam was doing great, almost normal when John was not around but when he was, his brother became that scared kid; same as when they had first found him.

"I see." John did not elaborate. It hurt, knowing how much his own son was afraid of him. It hurt that John could not hug Sam, not calm him after a nightmare, not even see the smile in his eyes. It hurt too much. He soothed himself with the knowledge that Sam, at least, trusted his brother. The kid was doing alright by himself and was learning how to fight. Maybe with time…"Teach him how to kick bullies' ass, OK?" He said after a while.

"Yes, sir. You know I do."

"I'm gonna leave for a hunt in couple of days. For two weeks tops. Take care of him will you?"

"Of course, sir."

John was leaving. It was quite sudden, but Dean knew his father was getting more and more restless since they moved into this small town. The long break from the hunting made John train them like there was no tomorrow. He was obviously going easy on Sam, but not with his eldest. Most days, Dean could find time only to sleep and cook. They had been here, Frederic, CO for three weeks and he could go out on the town only for couple of days. But, being a Winchester, he had managed to meet few girls. Ann and Sheryl might need more work, but Carrie… Oh, yeah; Carrie seemed like she would have given it even then. She was older; not MILF old, but definitely much older than Dean. She was cool, and eager, and smoking hot! The day John leaving for the hunt, Dean was going to move into the sweet wetness of Carrie Duncan. He cannot wait.

XXX

"When will he be back?" Sam asked, lifting his head from the bed.

Dean had thought his brother was asleep. John had wanted to leave early in the morning -though Dean believed 5 am counted as _late night_- and gave Dean the usual orders with the extra "look out for Sammy!"s.

"Hey, why did you wake up? Were we loud?"

"I… I just woke up when you left the bed." Sam gave a sheepish grin, "So, when he'll be back?" Sam asked again finding his spot next to Dean as soon as he was back in the bed.

"In two weeks top. Don't worry."

"It's OK."

Dean knew it was OK; probably it was even better for Sam that his father was not around.

"So, is there anything you wanna do when the old man is away?"

"What do you mean?" Sam raised his big eyes to his brother's.

"I don't know." It was going to be weird, Dean knew, but he had to mention this sometime before he brought the girl. "I… for example… planning to see a girl. Bring her home…"

"A girl?"

"You know, a date."

"I see."

OK. It went weirder than Dean had planned.

"Yeah, dating… In couple of years Sammy; you'll start going after girls too."

"Don't think so. I don't like girls."

"You sure? I mean, have you ever been with a girl? Maybe, you'll like it."

"I didn't." His tone was cold and certain.

"Oh." Dean did not know what to say. "OK, No girls then. Maybe-"

"It wasn't a girl; she was 40-something." Sam continued as if in trance, "She loved stretchers and monster dildos." Sensing that Dean went rigid under his arms, he stopped. "Sorry, you don't like that stuff."

"No… I mean, it's not like that… I get upset, but you can talk about it. I want you to talk about it whenever you feel like."

"Nah, I don't like talking about it either." He really did not. If he could, he would love to forget everything, every single moment. But he could not. It did not take much to bring back those dark memories; sometimes a smell, sometimes a voice... And now, they were crashing back again.

That brunette bitch, too much money, too little love, no fucking heart! Sam could hear her icy laugh, smell her expensive perfume, feel her nails… He could remember every single detail. How she had loved to tie him so that he could not relax even for a second without gagging himself. He could still feel his body fighting for more air when tiredness took over. It did not matter that he wanted it to end; when the time came, his body took over, fight for his life regardless of his choice. She loved to make him eat her cunt while spanking his stretched balls with paddles. Sam did not mind the taste at all, but the paddles… When he was stretched that much, that long, he did not need anything else -much less the beating- to feel pain; his sack became the throbbing pain itself. And if he took too long to finish her, she loved to remind him the time by poking his penis with needles. One for each minute after she had gotten bored. The waiting alone had been the torture then. He remembered her licking the blood off his abused cock after each poke. He remembered everything, everything.

Dean's voice brought him back form that darkness.

"Sammy, you know it's not the same. I mean, when you start dating, I doubt any girls at your age would even know what a stretcher is. Believe me; they don't even let you touch their pussy for like foreeeever."

Sammy giggled at the theatrical frustration in his brother's voice, accompanied with the exaggerated eye roll. Dean might not make him forget yet, but he was close.

"I'm serious, kiddo. But, you still might wanna give them a try. Who knows?"

"Maybe." Sam did not want to talk about it anymore. He knew he did not want to give it a try. He knew he was not going to like it. He liked this: placing his head on this very shoulder and listening to the heartbeat calling his name. He loved this. But Dean did not want it. He wanted to be with a girl. He had said that when they had first met. "So, are you dating someone now?"

"Me?"

"You said you're gonna bring someone at home."

"Yes, kinda dating."

"I see."

"Sammy, if you don't feel-"

"It's cool Dean. Just… I… can wait in the library?"

"What? Dude! No! You're not gonna leave home. I'll use dad's room."

"Oh! OK."

Sam did not sound OK. But, there was no chance that Dean would leave Sam that long alone. He had to bring Carrie in. Of course, he could always skip the 'fuck the local girl' plan, but honestly, Dean had no idea how much longer he could endure. It had become really hard to resist that fucking desire, and Dean needed the help. He was desperate. So, he would bring Carrie for couple of hours on Friday night, and would make up to Sam on the next day.

XXX

Pizza and six-pack was in the car, Sam was all guarded, working on his homework in the house and Carrie… Carrie was supposed be here like 15 minutes ago. God! girls and their fucking make-up.

Dean had already prepped her about how he took care of his brother who had been in an accident recently and was having serious health problems. But still, he got surprised when she accepted that their date was going to involve only staying at home and eating pizza. Girls were suckers for big hearted big brothers apparently. Who knew?

When she finally got out of her house, she looked absolutely stunning. And it was not Dean's not-got-laid-past-few-months who was talking. It was for real. Her dark hair was not the tight ponytail like the previous times he had seen her; it was running down her shoulders freely. And her dress was ticklishly inviting, tightly revealing all her curves; Dean hardly kept his hands to himself until they made it to the car. It was going to be a great night.

Carrie was not just a cool girl, she was awesome. Not only she did not make a fuss about spending the Friday night at home babysitting, she brought weed with her! Her taste in music was not the greatest but other than that she was plain amazing. She did not stop him from touching her boobs, even helped him to get his hands in her bra. Only after two minutes of making out, her hands were on his dick already. And after learning that 'it's been a while', her answer was a simple 'then let's get into the first round.' That was it; Dean was going to date only with older girls from now on.

She initiated the blowjob, suggesting that it would take the edge off and Dean always listened to good suggestions. After the quick–thank God, not ridiculously quick- orgasm while trying not to think his brother's mouth, he took the matters on his hands. He easily took off her dress –no fucking panties!- and started eating her up. The only down part of this action plan was that her mouth was empty, letting her grunts filling the house.

She tasted nice, not as nice as Samm- He had to stop this. He was here with a gorgeous girl who gave him an awesome head, and all he could think of was how different it was when he had had Sam in his mouth. This was supposed to help him forget his brother, not to help him visualize. Maybe, he needed to involve more. He decided finishing her quick, getting into the fucking part. That he did and learnt that Carrie was a true screamer.

When they started again, Carrie was a little bit more docile. At least she did not start screaming until she was close. She knew couple of tricks, but still, Dean had not expected her to clutch on his dick like a freaking pump after she was through with her orgasm. God! the chick knew the shit. Before losing himself in the hot furnace, Dean saw her smug smile; she knew exactly what kind of effect she had on him. And there was no need to postpone any longer. He rose up, held Carrie tightly on her curvy thighs and started to go town on her. It did not take long before he was coming. Three things happened at the same time: he filled his condom while still riding the wanton girl, he opened his eyes and he saw the silhouette reflecting on the window.

Dean's eyes opened wide in that instant. He turned his head to check the mirror on the closet door and yes, it was Sam on the other side of the ajar door. His brother was watching him banging a random chick in his father's bed; a worried frown clouding his face.

"Sammy?" His voice was harsh and sounded like he did run a marathon.

"It's Carrie, sugar; but as long as you fuck like this, don't matter what you call me." Carrie answered with a cocky smile. When she tried to pull him down to get a kiss, Dean rescued himself from her.

"No.. No.. Carrie. It's my brother-"

"Oookey… calling your brother name is a bit weird… but, yeah whatever."

"No! What? God, no!" Dean did not expecting this and he was sure the panic on his face screamed guilty. He tried to control himself while getting rid of the condom. "He was here. I mean I just saw him, watching us. That's why..."

"Oh.." Carrie's smile widened, "No biggie, kids are curious like that. He'll learn from his big brother."

"I… Sorry, Carrie. I gotta see him. He's-"

"Sure thing, sugar. Don't sweat on it."

And like that Dean left the room in only his boxers to find Sam. He was in his/their bed, face down to the pillow.

"Hey, kiddo. You alright?"

"I'm sorry Dean. I didn't wanna ruin your night. I just..." Sam spoke without raising his head.

"Hey, you didn't ruin anything."

"Do you love her?"

"Wha'?" Dean was almost drowning on his own spit hearing the unexpected question.

"Do you love her?" Sam repeated himself.

"I… Sam… Why are you asking this?"

"You don't … So, are you… are you using her to-"

"Sam, hey look at me." Dean had to see his brother's face while talking about this shit. "It is not like that. I mean I'm not _using_ her, but it's not love either. It's.. you know… '_two consenting adults'_…"

Dean could swear that it was relief in Sam's face.

"Sorry… I wasn't gonna spy on you like that, but then… she was yelling too loud and-"

"Yeah, she was loud." Dean gave a sheepish smile.

Sam smiled at him. Then his eyes moved over Dean's shoulder, prompting Dean to look back. Carrie was standing there, all dressed up.

"Hi, Carrie… Sorry." Dean walked towards the door.

"Don't worry. I thought you might need some time with your bro. I already called a cab."

"No, I-"

"Shhh…" Carrie smiled and whispered into his ears. "Dean, baby; I had great time and you're busy now. I'd love to repeat this and if you call me, I don't mind driving here." She completed her words with a wet lick. "God, you're so sweet."

"I'm.. I…"

"See you later." She was already on her way out, yelled back before leaving the house. "Take care, Sammy."

When Dean was back to his brother, Sam looked like someone had killed his puppy.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I didn't wanna ruin your date."

"Hey, you didn't. It was over already and she asked me to call her again. I guess I'm that good huh?"

"You are."

"…?" OK, tonight was not the night for Dean because, come on, how many punches disguised as dialogues a man could endure in less than an hour. "I… I…"

Sam looked up to his brother, his eyes shining with something Dean did not want to name.

"You don't even need to do anything, you look so… But believe me, you're that good; I can tell."

Dean could not say anything; he could not pull his arm either when Sam's fingers traveled on it.

"First, I thought it was because we were special… but I guess you're like that with everyone." Sam continued his seriously disturbing monologue, his smile was gone.

"Sammy… I.."

"Wasn't I special, Dean?"

That broke the ice lump Dean was squeezed in.

"Sam, of course you're special. How could you even ask that? They… none of them means anything to me; other than a couple of happy hours. You're my flesh and blood brother; you're my Sammy."

Sam slowly closed the gaps between them while Dean was blubbering some nonsense about Sam's importance in his life. When Dean finally stopped repeating himself like a crazy hobo, he realized his brother was practically sitting in his lap. His delicate hands were on Dean's shoulders, face buried into his neck. With shock, he felt that his brother was scenting him… _scenting_ him. Before Dean could put his mind together, Sam suddenly stopped with an apparent shaking which was nothing to do with fear or sadness.

"Sammy?" Dean asked tentatively, trying to behave normal, as normal as he could while his brother's dick was twitching against his boxer.

Dean could not take his eyes of him. His cheeks were in the prettiest pink color, and eyes were shining. His lips were red and swollen; Dean guessed that Sam was biting on them the whole time.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to. I… It just…" Sam's glow turned into a full blown panic; he tried to crawl away from his brother.

"What, Sam stop!" It was then, Dean saw the little, tiny, dark spot on his brother's PJs, suggesting that Sammy had actually emptied his balls. And that was so not the image Dean needed in his life right now. "OH!…I see…"

"Dean, believe me. I didn't want to. I couldn't stop. I didn't know it could happen this fast. It's been a while, that must be-"

"It's been a while what?"

"Since I discharged in my sleep."

"Do you mean you are releasing your jeez in your sleep?"

"I don't mean to; but it happens. I can't control it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It had never happened to me before; I don't know-"

"Sam…" The manners could get lost, Dean meant business now. "Don't you jerk off?"

"No! Of course not. It happens only in my sleep, I swear, Dean."

"Dude, I'm lost. Why aren't you jerking off? I mean you definitely know how to do it, why do you suffer blue balls." That thought brought another disturbing question. "How long it's been since your last wet dream?"

"Three weeks." Sam's voice was again in that lost-boy tone.

Dean could not imagine going for that long. Hell, he could not imagine going even three days!

"Sammy, look at me. Hey!" Dean had to lift his brother's head to have eye contact. "Can you tell me why aren't you masturbating?"

Sam did not respond; he only looked at Dean with glittering eyes, now ready to shed tears.

"Sammy. It's OK. I'm not mad at you. It happens; you're young and especially if you are trying to keep yourself like this. But… it's not healthy. You should give yourself some release time to time. I do it, all the time."

"Really?"

"Of course man! almost every morning in the shower." Dean tried to cover his uneasiness with a smirk. "And you should do too. I don't mean every day; but whenever you feel the need."

"I… I can't." Sam went rigid again and this time it wasn't because of his unexpected orgasm. Dean, now, could tell when Sam had flashbacks.

"Sam…" He got to be careful with this, did not want to scare his brother even more. "Were you not allowed to jerk of?"

Sam only nodded, his hands were clutching on the blanket.

"You know that was then, Sammy. It is alright now. You are free to do it. You are free to do whatever you like."

"That's not true."

"It's not?"

"Never mind. I need to change."

"No! It's important. What is it? You gotta tell me."

Sam got up from the bed, but did not leave. He looked at his brother's eyes; green, so green. He wanted get lost in them, to forget everything. He moved slowly and closed the gap between them.

Dean was stuck like a deer looking at the headlights. He watched his brother's lips get closer until they were sliding over his. Sam gave him the smallest kiss, barely touching, but it felt like a hotwire on his skin. He could not help himself but jerk back.

"Sammy, don't…"

"See." Sam bit his lips, and continued with a very sad smile. "I can't to do _this_.", and he left Dean buried under his horror.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm sorry for the late update, but this chapter was incredibly hard to write. This is the forth version and I'm still not completely happy, but the characters just did not behave and I gave up. _

XXX

He woke up with a horrible hangover; his head was pounding and he had to push himself extra hard to leave the blissful oblivion behind. When had he drunk that much? He had never had such hangover since college. The sleep was pulling him back seductively, but he had to wake up and change the position he was stuck so that his aching muscles could relax a little. However, after couple of attempts, he slowly realized that the pain was not due to his age or some awkward sleeping position; he simply could not move his body. As soon as that realization sank, he felt the adrenalin mixing into his blood stream and his awareness increased several folds in one moment.

He opened his eyes only to find himself in complete darkness. He was suspending from above and his hands were tied so tight that he could swear there was no life left in them. After screaming with panic for a long while, he accepted that he was alone, or at least not with anyone friendly. He tried to pull himself together and somewhat managed to put some of his weight on the ball of his feet. It helped his shoulders a little, but not much, definitely not enough.

The adrenalin had helped him to wake up, but it had not helped him in slightest to remember how he had ended up here. His thoughts were jumping from one idea to another, from the horror movies he watched during the high-school to his bitter ex-wife… He could not stay on one thought-train long enough to have any conclusive idea; only the increasing fear of the unknown. Panic was also causing him to shiver uncontrollably; making him lose his footing and hurt his shoulders even more.

"Well, well, finally." The somewhat familiar voice filled the room together with the sudden, blinding light.

"Who… Who's this?"

"Just wait a moment, Mr. Richardson; it'll come to you soon."

When his eyes finally get used to the naked light, he saw a man, no… a boy standing right in front of him. Dark green eyes filled with too much hatred and he looked dangerously angry.

"Who- Oh!" With those brilliant green eyes, came the memories too. "No, no, it's a misunderstanding-"

"You finally get your memories back? So, tell me Harry, what did I misunderstand? Was it my imagination that I saw your dirty mouth on my brother?"

"Please. I told you before, I didn't-"

"Yeah, told me. _You didn't hurt him. He wanted it_. Right?" The boy poked him and gave a surprized smile at the flabby sound coming from his rounded belly. "But, you know as well as I do that even if you were right, 13 year olds cannot make that decision."

Harry could not help the shivering, or the crying or the begging. The name of the boy finally came to him, "Please, Dean… Please."

Apparently, Dean was not someone who could be easily affected by miserable sounds. The very fitting 'bad-ass' attitude was not a role for him; he was a bad-ass. The boy's ice-cold grin left its place to the disgusted look when he brought the scalpel pack to the light.

"If you haven't threatened me, I was simply gonna leave your sorry ass to the cops." He pulled on nitrile gloves and opened the sterile package of the scalpel. "You ruined that option and I can't let you harm your other students just because I have some problems with the legal system. So, here goes this." He dangled the sharp surgical tool for the explanation.

Harry knew he was crying like an old lady now. He could only imagine the repulsing image he was making with the snot and tear mix on his puffy face.

"I… I don't. Please… Dean, please… I've never done it before. I won't again… I won't."

"You seriously believe that I would listen to your lies… After seeing you with my own eyes... After you tried to black mail me?"

"It's the truth… Please, you have to believe me. I couldn't dare doing it before."

"No? You mean before my brother."

"I'd never do it if Sam wasn't willing. Please you gotta believe me."

"You're so full of shit!" Dean's angry eyes were shining with the power of his fury. "You're a monster; you don't deserve to live. But still, I'm not gonna kill you. Just gonna take your deadly weapon. "

Harry felt the steady fingers unzipping his pants to take out his prick. The organ had gotten so small, shriveled as if trying to hide from the angry boy and his very sharp instrument.

"Please, I only got him off, didn't do anything else. Please… Please…" He could barely talk. He knew he did not make any sense right now, but he could not stop begging either. "I haven't touched him or any kid with my dick. I swear."

"Yeah, right." The boy snorted; his voice was bitter enough for an old man.

Harry was waiting the inevitable when he realized the kid did not bring the sharp tool any closer. Maybe he was finally getting to the boy? He continued his begging with even more fervor.

"I swear on whatever you ask me to, please. I… I wasn't even gonna do that. I… Look… I know I'm sick. But, I just watch them, nothing else. Never done anything. Just watching them in the public, I swear. But, Sam… it's like he knew how I felt, he… please."

"Yeah, I bet you had a really nice high-school romance. He's a kid for fuck's sake." Harry saw the boy was shaking with anger. "And you know what's worse: Your student opened up to you about his brother and him, and what do you do? You take advantage of him. Because he can't do anything about it, right? His own family is doing it, right?"

"What? No?" What the hell the boy was talking about? "He didn't tell me anything."

"Then, how did you know about him and me?" Dean asked, but Harry could see the boy regretted immediately for the confession he had just made.

"He was calling your name when he… you know, when he came. I assumed it was just a crush at first, but then I saw you two." Seeing that the boy was not getting any closer to him, Harry tried one more time. "Please, I'm begging you, please don't do this. I won't do it again, I swear, I won't."

"How can I believe you? If you hurt another kid, it's gonna be on me and I…"

"I won't. I've been living with this my whole life and I've never done anything like this. I told you… I don't know how, but as if your brother saw right through me. He knew it, before I did anything; I swear. He knew. And… And he needed help."

"Finally, one right word from your fucking mouth. He needed help; not your sickness."

"No… I mean, yes, of course. What I meant; he needed help with ejaculation. He was in pain and he asked me to help him."

"Wha- What?" Dean's eyes finally showed another emotion other than anger.

"I know I should have sent him to the nurse or something. But, he asked me not to make his father know. And…." Harry was crying again. He did not need Dean telling him; he knew nothing was an excuse for what he had done. "I was weak… He asked…. And I thought '_Only one time. Just one_.' It didn't even take long. I touched him and he came just like that." When there was no respond from the young man, he continued. "Next week, he came to me again. I just… I couldn't say no. I started blowing him to make him come after that. He wanted it, I guess. He didn't say no."

Harry quietly watched the boy standing in front of him. He didn't have anything else to say for himself. He knew what he had done was unacceptable. He had known it all along. All these years, he had made himself believe that he was different than all those monsters he had seen on TV, that he could never harm a child, that he was better. Apparently, he was not. What he did not understand was why the boy, Dean, was so afraid of cops. OK, incest with his little brother was not gonna get him medals, but it was not like he was an adult. That was the thing though, wasn't it? Adults are afraid of cops; this boy was most probably afraid of his father. Harry had seen the father and he could definitely understand the fear. He was feeling it deep in his bones right now.

"Look. I'll… I'll apply for my retirement. Huh? How's that. I can do that. I… I should not be with kids anymore. I won't be. Please. Please, let me go."

XXX

Dean took couple of steps back, his conscience kept telling him -strangely in John's voice, although Dean was sure his father would not be the voice of reason in this specific case- that the humans were not what they hunt. He needed a minute. His mind was travelling through the events happened a day ago. How much had changed in such a short time. How eager he had been while spying on what he had believed that his little brother's secret crash. He had been so happy that Sam was getting along with his classmates, that the kid was working on a project with them. And no sir, he was not jealous. He just wanted to meet that mystery girl.

Oh, Dean was so sure it was a girl, no matter what Sam had said about the science project and how much help he actually needed to complete it, yada, yada, yada. John might have bought the ridiculous excuses, but not Dean. Of course, John had no idea. Although Sam had started talking to him directly, their communication did not involve more than several sentences a day. So, while his father's only concern had been where Sam would be in the extra hour after the classes, Dean had wanted to know more about the girl helping(!) his little brother. Now, he wanted to laugh at how stupid he had been.

He remembered how he had been trying to convince himself that he actually wanted that his brother was with a girl, that Sammy was over him. While walking down the empty school corridors, his main concern had been whether he would be jealous watching Sam with someone else. Pathetic! He did not remember much after hearing Sam's moaning though. He had probably broken the door and been onto the teacher in mere seconds. He only remembered how Sam had been begging him to stop. The kid was crying so much that Dean thought he had been hurt. Sammy kept begging that they should go and did not stop crying until both of them were in the safety of the car. He had not spoken until they were closer to the apartment they were living. Then, he had begged Dean not to tell their father and immediately started crying again. Crying and begging for forgiveness.

Dean came to himself listening to the sobs of the middle aged science teacher. The guy looked miserable, pathetic… It did not matter how long he watched, Dean could not see the monster he needed to see to able to complete his plans. He walked next to the guy and raised his knife, only to cut his hands loose. The teacher fell down to the floor like a bag of potatoes.

"If I find out that you lied to me; if I find that you're not keeping your promise, I'll hunt you. You understand me? If you make me come to you again, it'd only be to kill your sorry ass."

With that comment he left the building; he was not gonna give the bastard a ride home. If Harry was that useless and could not even manage to go back to town by tomorrow, Dean would leave an anonymous tip to the sheriff's office. It was not like he expected that the teacher would file a complaint. The guy was too much of a coward for a sleazy predator. However, in any case, they had to leave the town and Dean had to come up with some excuse since Sam would not let him to tell the truth to their father.

XXX

"Please, don't hate me." Sam's whisper was so low that Dean barely heard him even though Sam was talking right next to his ear.

"Sammy… Hey kiddo. Did I wake you up?" Dean asked, trying to digest his brother's words.

"You went to talk to him."

"Yes…" It was not a question, so Dean did not try to cover up why he was getting into the bed at this god forsaken hour. "I wanted to make sure he won't do it again."

"What did you-"

"Nothing. He's fine... Gonna stop teaching though."

"He asked me, and… I wanted it."

Although he had not been thinking anything else during the drive back from the empty barn, Dean had trouble finding words to respond his brother right now.

"I'm… I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you, Sammy. I can't hate you, man. Come on." After a long breath he continued. "He told me that… that you needed it… for…"

Lucky for Dean, his brother picked up, "I wanted to cum. Dean, believe me, it was just that. I was so hard all the time. I just wanted to cum. And he didn't hurt me… And I felt so relaxed… So, I… next week I asked him and he just-" Sam looked at him through his chestnut bangs; his brother was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

"So… it's not like… that you like him or older men?" He cursed himself realizing that he could not keep the accusation from his voice.

"No! not like that, no. I just… I needed to cum and he was the only one wanted to do it for me."

Since they had miraculously found Sammy, all Dean had been trying to do to make sure Sam could be normal, like the other kids. He wanted Sam to forget his horrendous past and behave as if nothing like that had ever happened. However, here Dean was, lying next to his severely traumatized brother, realizing that it was impossible to forget such past, ever. He pulled Sam into a tight hug and tried to put the words together.

"Look, Sammy... Adults are not supposed to-"

"I'm not stupid, Dean. I know. I know that Seville's clients were as bad as Seville…. I mean, I didn't when I was with him, but I'm in the real world for long enough to see what's right and what's not." He inhaled a deep, long breath, "I knew what Mr. Richardson did was not normal. But I was… It's been too long and I just needed someone to touch me to cum."

That was the other issue Dean so did not want to discuss with his brother. "Sammy, I told you, it's OK."

"I know!" Sam yelled with an unexpected outburst.

Dean watched his little brother getting angry; a first since he was back. However, it did not take long. His hazel eyes opened wide; as if even he could not believe that he had actually yelled at his brother.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm… I'm sorry I cannot be the brother you wanted me to. I'm sorry to be such a slut. I'm-"

"Whoa! Whoa! Stop it, Sam!" Dean had to shake his brother to make him raise his head. "You're my brother and that's the end of it. You're the only brother I want. And, I don't wanna hear about being a slut again. You understand me?" He looked at his younger brother's eyes, trying to judge if his words reaching him. "This is not… You gotta tell me if you're going to… I mean, yeah Mr. Fuckwad didn't hurt you, but he could have. Sammy, you cannot trust people like that; especially pedophiles like him."

Instead of a verbal answer, Sam nodded. Dean pulled his brother again, placing his still small head on his chest.

"Let's sleep, OK? Things will be better in the morning." He murmured into Sam's ears, leaving a kiss on top of the dark hair, trying to convince himself too.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I'm terribly sorry that it took me this long to finish the story. I just couldn't figure out how to end it for the longest time. Finally, it's done and I think I'm happy with the result._

* * *

><p>"Hey, sleepy head…"<p>

It was so bright in the room that Sam had to close his eyes right away.

"Hey, I saw that you're awake. Don't play the possum, Sammy." How did Dean's voice sound so cheerful this early in the morning?

" 'm not! It's just…"

Before he could hold on to it, he felt the comforter was taken away. It was not really cold inside the room, but it still felt chilly on his sleep warmed body.

"Deeaan!" He complained, knowing perfectly well that he could not hide the growing smile on his face. He was happy, listening to amusement in Dean's voice.

"Are you getting up or what?"

"Mmmm… no!" He answered playfully, already planning his counter attack for Dean's very obvious plans. And when his brother tried to get a hold of his shoulder, he was ready. He was almost surprised at his own ability to perform the moves they had been practicing for weeks; but he finished it without a hitch.

"Wow!"

And the pride in Dean's eyes were worth every second of the training.

"Got you, De."

"You did, kiddo." His brother's smile grew even broader, "Now the second part."

"What second- Deee!" He found himself under Dean in less than a second. His legs were secured between his brother's legs and he found that he cannot use his arms either. "How did you…" He tried wiggling his way out of the position, but there was no give.

"I think you should try harder, little brother. Or, do I have to show you the consequences of being trapped."

"No, no, no, no. Dean, Deaaan." Sam could not finish his begging before his brother's free arm started the tickle attack.

Dean stopped after a good, long minute. They were both laughing; arms and legs tangled in each other. Sam looked into his brother's eyes, smiling and happy. It had been such a joy to wake up and find Dean happily lying down next to him for the past week. After the horrible incident with his teacher, Sam had been really afraid that his brother might hate him. He had been expecting Dean to be disgusted by him. He thought his brother would never forgive him lusting after Mr. Richardson. But Dean did understand him and he did not tell John. Oh, Sam was sure John would not be so understanding, not like Dean. Sam still remember how much his past angered his father, how much John was disgusted with him having sex with Dean. John would get mad, and Sam had that unrealistic fear that his eyes would turn yellow when John Winchester got mad.

They had been alone in this house for a week now. John had left for whatever thing he had to do and Sam had not even had to try hard to convince Dean to sleep together in his absence. Not having John around was such a blessing and Sam felt a little guilty for it. The guy had not done anything bad to him. And Dean obviously loved him very much. But Sam could not help but feel free whenever John was away from them.

"Hey, you sleeping again? Come on, we gotta have some breakfast and train some more."

XXX

The scenery was changing fast around the car, too fast considering the speed limit at this part of the road, but John could not bring himself to slow down. He was so damn angry, he thought he might get a stroke; the way his blood pounding in his head. Dean had lied to him. His own son, the hunter he had brought up. The son who –John thought- believed John was a fucking hero. Apparently Dean was not as good a son as he appeared to be. He fucking lied like a lame fucking teenager. And no, not about his curfew or a simple shit like that. About someone who had hurt… hurt badly. God! He should not make himself angrier. He should calm down before arriving New Mexico. And he should ease on the gas pedal too, not like he could fly there by pressing harder.

He had been angry with Dean when the boy told him about the fight he had involved when John was away hunting that disgusting ghouls. He remembered Dean's timid voice on the phone very well; explaining the reason why he had been disturbing his father. '_We have to skip this town, _sir.' He had told him with a shaking voice. Back then, John thought it was because Dean was just feeling guilty. Rightly so, he kept telling Dean to keep a low profile and so far the kid had never had any problems except in the school. However, involving a gang-related bar brawl?! That was a whole new ballgame. Dean knew he had more responsibilities now that he was taking care of his little brother. He knew he had no business even getting close to any gang. And what the hell Dean was doing in a bar when he was supposed to be at home watching his brother.

He remembered Dean's flimsy excuses; his horny son had to find a girl with an ex from the town's biker gang. John had seen the girl once, did not look like she was the type, but these days it was impossible to know. He should have known from the way Dean told him about the fight that something was off. But he was so angry that Dean had been slacking off, he could not focus on it. And now, John was fuming with his anger. That little fuck lied to his father, to John Winchester. To the hunter who could tell when a witness even thought about lying; who felt in his gut if something was slightly off. However, John was apparently not so different then the soccer-dads when it comes to teenage sons.

His eldest lied to him and John still had hard time to believe that. Dean would never do it. John still could not truly comprehend how it was even possible that the boy lied to his own father. Even more so, he lied about a sick fuck who had planned to do something to Sammy. Yes, it should only be in the planning phase because if that ugly bastard had touched his son's hair, John did not know what he would do.

He realized that he pushed the car to 100 mph again. He tried to ease his foot, to control his breathing. However, it did not matter what route he forced his brain to, he ended up with how angry he had been with Dean. He remembered how scared Sam had gotten when he had yelled at Dean. Now, he was thinking maybe Sam was skittish because of his God damned, pedo teacher. Of course, he could never know for sure since his own son was more skittish with John than anybody else. His anger spiked again remembering how easily he had believed the lies Dean had told him. The kid became a true expert apparently. The girl, the bar, the ex… everything he had said or left unsaid was the perfect cover. He was so good that John did not even think about how come Dean did not have any bruises on him. You would expect from a bar brawl that both parties ended up with at least one good fist. However, Dean -his too bright for his own good son- thought about that too. The way he told that how the guy approached him had been filthy drunk… John assumed the ex could not stand up let alone fight. But apparently, it had been the middle aged science teacher who gave Dean's knuckles those bruises. And John supposed the piece of shit could not even hit a sandbag.

What John could not figure out was the reason. He would understand that Dean figured out something fishy was going on with the teacher and put him in the right path. But why did not he come to his father and proudly tell him? Why was the secrecy? Maybe he was afraid that John would kill the filthy douche-bag… Yeah, John might have killed the bastard. Depending on how fishy the business the guy had involved in with Sammy… He would _definitely_ give the sleazy bastard a nice, round bullet to help his therapy. However, why would Dean want to protect the monster who had hurt his brother?

John kept thinking about the very same question since he put together what had happened in Frederic; but he could not come up with a single meaningful reason… Apart from some bullshit filling his mind. He knew that the reason was **not** because Dean wanted to be the sole hero of his brother. He knew it did not make any sense, but what else? God! John Winchester did not do that. He might be a bad father, but he was not a fucking loser. He would not be the pathetic, jealous… whatever. He should not feel like Dean was stealing Sammy from him. He was their father for God's sake. However, that little tiny dot in his heart kept whispering that as if getting all the love from little Sammy was not enough that Dean now had to be his only protector too.

John was pathetic.

What made him really angry was that he did not even figure it out by himself. He had not been looking for it when he had ended up in Frederic to collect the money the garage owed him. It was a total coincidence that he ended up in the same diner with Mr. Science teacher when he needed his morning coffee. He was not even going to recognize the guy if it was not for Nancy. The waitress who had shown interest in John many times before, felt like it was her responsibility to let John know about the latest gossips in the town.

"It's scary you know, John." She started as if they were close friends. "I mean, nowadays nobody is immune to this random violence. Who could guess? They beat up poor Mr. Richardson. You would expect these kinda things happen in New York or I don't know if you're with mafia or something. Who would wanna hurt a science teacher? Everybody loves him. Even his students love him. He had to stay in the hospital for more than a week and still cannot walk right, imagine that."She concluded her news.

Nancy kept going between the coffee refills and pie offerings about how scared she was. That she was living with her old mother and how it was not any different than being alone. John was in a good mood so he did not shut her up right away. He was actually thinking of taking her up on her offer. It was not likely that he would come to this town again, so no reason to be afraid of the power of her unstoppable mouth. But before he could give her one of his signature smiles, the beat down guy got up to leave. And John saw his face; his bruised, ugly face. It was almost funny that it did not take much time to put together everything immediately after seeing that face. The same face from Sam's school. The guy who had told John how special his youngest was. And John suddenly remembered the '_wrong_' feelings he had had about the guy. Putting everything together happened so fast that he felt completely stupid not figuring out before. How come he did not realize something was wrong. His job was catching monsters for God's sake, how come he could not recognize the guy for who he was before it was too late.

John realized he floored the fucking pedal again. He tried to keep himself calm, he had five more hours before talking to his son face to face.

XXX

When John arrived their current home, it was close to midnight. He tried to be as silent as possible to avoid waking Sammy up. He had to talk to Dean alone and get some answers without scaring his youngest even more than he usually was. However, his plans of taking Dean out of the bed dissolved when he heard the whispers coming from his son's bedroom.

The lamp on the bed-side drawer was on, creating a soft light right on the bed, enough that John could see them through the ajar door. They were both on the same bed. Something John had been suspicious of recently, but could not find it in his heart to confront his boys.

Dean was lying down on the side of the bed closer to the door and Sam half on top of his brother. John could see his still a bit too skinny body, covered only with a boxer.

"Please, Dean. Please." His youngest begged as if asking for an ice-cream treat before dinner.

"Sammy…" Dean sounded flustered. "We have done it today, are you sure you need it a-"

"But John'll be back tomorrow and we can't do it again." Sam did not let his brother to finish his sentence. It still hurt John that Sam did not call him dad, but there was more pressing issues at hand, so he put it on the side to angst over later.

"You told me you needed it once a week. We can still do that when dad's home."

Sam moved to side where John could no longer see him from where he was standing. However, from the sound of the kid's voice, John could imagine how he was hiding his cute face under his bangs.

"Okay."

John knew before Dean could respond that his eldest's resolution was gone. Dean's threshold for enduring Sammy's wishes had never been high.

"Hey… Hey, Sammy. Look at me." Dean turned away from the door, facing his upset brother. "Come on, Sammy."

"I don't want to force you, Dean. I'd never…" John barely heard what Sam said. "Please, don't-"

"Hey, what did I tell you? Come on, man. You know I wanna. Don't you?" Dean stopped Sam's whispers and pulled him on his lap in a single move. "I just… I love you, Sammy. And I don't wanna harm you in any way. I want you to find a-"

"Don't say a girl!" Sam answered rather angrily.

"Okay, boy and-"

"I'm never gonna be normal, Dean. Don't you get it? Never." Sam interrupted once again and seeing how his brother was trying to answer, he placed his long fingers over Dean's lips to effectively shut him off. "You gotta understand that, Dean. I can never trust anyone else like that. I just can't."

"Sammy…" Dean started only to stop with a frustrated exhale.

"No, Dean. It's not _just time_." Sam cut in. "You're the only one I remember, you know."

"What?"

"From before. It was only the dreams first. But now I remember. Small things, but I do. I remember that when I hurt my knees falling down from a bike; you drew a smiley face on the gauze. I remember you made it so that it looked at me when I was walking."

"How do you… Do you really remember it Sammy? You were so young."

"I do. I also remember you washing me with the garden hose one day. I was crying, but you didn't stop."

"Yeah? That's because you fell into a big dump of horse shit dumb-ass. Literally. You're covered with dung." Dean answered between giggles.

"You're making that up."

"I swear. I had to clean your face with my hands before bringing you to the water to clean you up. The smell stuck in your hair for a week." Dean completed his story with a shit-eating grin.

"No way."

"Whatever. What else do you remember?"

"Small things. But I do remember you, Dean. Only you."

John had to sit down on the floor where he had been crouching. He knew that. He had known that as a father he had not spent enough time with his son, sons. However, hearing it with such certainty still hurt. More than John wanted to admit. Even though he was not watching them anymore, he could still hear their happy chirping. Sam mentioned about really strange incidents from his childhood, all distorted from a kid's point of view; leaving the boys laughing. And, okay, maybe John was not happy about their proximity on a bed, but he could not really feel bad about it now that he could hear his youngest laughing so freely. Something he could never see face to face.

He could stay in that corner and feel all sorry for himself all night. However, Sam's tone changed now and John focused his prying eyes back on his boys.

"So, you understand that now, right? I can never trust anyone like this. But if you don't-"

"God! Sammy." Dean pulled his brother down, into his arms. "You know how much I want to, baby."

"Then, please Dean. Please, give this to me."

John did not have to see it to understand what the request was about. The way Sam was begging left nothing to imagination. And John could not really blame Dean when he let his brother kiss him. How could he expect Dean to say no to such wholehearted request? Especially now that he could see Sam giving his very soul to the kiss; his small hands covering Dean's -still too young- face.

John knew this was wrong, he knew it was his responsibility as a father to stop his kids sinking deeper in this hole. But, how could he? How could he take this from his boy? There was nothing he could give to his youngest and now he was supposed to take the only thing that made him happy?

When he raised his eyes up again, he saw that Dean had rolled his brother under him. He wished he did not see the way his oldest was grinding his pelvis onto his brother, or did not hear the way Sam moaning. However, he did not have the luxury of thinking that whatever was going on was innocent kisses. No, John had to see it as what it was. His sons were very carnally into each other. They were not kissing, they were making out, half naked on a bed. And looking at how their bodies were writhing, it was clear as day that their intentions were far from being innocent.

Recognizing his defeat, John turned back. The less he knew about the incestuous relationship his boys were in, the better. However, he could not help hearing them confessing their love to each other. When he finally was out of the building, he sat down on the stairs. Maybe it was a phase that they had to go through. It might just burn out by itself if he let it go. God! He needed a drink. Without thinking about it, he found himself next to his car. He had seen a bar on the way, if he stepped on it, he could make there in fifteen.

XXX

Dean suddenly woke up to the ringing phone. He jumped from the bed after gently pushing Sam's octopus arms and caught it before the second ring.

"Dean." John Winchester's grim voice greeted him.

"Hey, dad. Everything alright?"

"Yeah. I… Something came up, so I can't make it back this week. You guys can handle it by yourselves for another week?"

"Sure… The rent for the house-"

"I handled it, don't worry. You have enough for the food."

"Yeah, dad. Are you sure everything okay, you don't sound-"

"Yeah, yeah." John quickly answered. He, then, continued after a long, audible exhale, "How's Sam?"

"Sam's okay. We both are."

"Good. That's good."

There was a nervous silence and Dean did not know what to think.

"Do you need help, dad. You know, it's spring break; we can come-"

"No. That's not necessary, son. You just continue your job in the diner. And no slacking in the training."

"Sure, dad."

"And most importantly-"

"Look out for Sammy."

"That's my boy. See you later, Dean"

"Dad…. Be careful." Dean managed to squeeze in before his father hung up.

It was not the conversation itself that made Dean suspicious, but his father's voice. He sounded sad. Okay, John Winchester usually had some kind of sadness in his voice, but generally it was loaded with too much anger that you might miss it. Not now though. Now he sounded genuinely sad. It might just because of the alcohol, he assumed. He sure sounded a bit tipsy.

"Was that John?" Sam's voice pulled him back to the room.

"Yeah. He's not gonna be back for another week."

His answer made Sam's smile grow until his mouth was almost touching to his ears.

"So, we can sleep in the same bed one more week, right? If you want it too." He asked timidly. Dean could feel the fear in his brother tone, even though Sam tried to sound cheerful and relaxed.

"Oh, I don't know. Lemme think..." Dean started answering casually, before jumping on top of the naked boy.

It did not take even a second for him to fix Sam's arms and legs.

"Sammy… Sammy…" He looked at his brother's shocked face. "You forgot everything I taught you?"

"It's not fair, Dean. You… you tricked me." Sam started wiggling immediately after realizing what's going on.

"Not fair, huh." Dean answered playfully. It did not take him too much force to keep Sam restrained under him. "You know what's less fair?" He asked before, pressing his lips together to blow air.

Sam's eyes opened large and big with understanding.

"No! Dean no! I'm not a kid anymore. Nooooo!"

His screams turned into breathless giggles when Dean pressed his mouth on the boy's belly and started blowing raspberries. It did not take Sam too long to throw his brother off of himself, but he could not stop laughing for a long time after that.

He was so beautiful when laughing that Dean felt his heart was swelling by just watching him. There were tears on the sides of his eyes, but the rest of his face was relaxed and simply happy.

"A good reason to be always ready." Dean finally commented.

"I can't… oh God! I can't believe you did that. How old do you think I am?"

"As if you growing up gonna change your 'baby brother' status." Dean replied. He lied down and pulled Sam on his chest. "You're always gonna be my baby brother, Sammy. And I'm gonna blow raspberries on your tummy even when you turn eighty and became all wrinkled there."

"Eewwww!" Sam showed his disgust on the subject.

"I love you, Sammy. Never doubt that."

"You too, Dean. Even if you became senile and can't get it up."

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

The End


End file.
